Red Meat
by Wemmick
Summary: A bucktoothed monster enrolls at Hogwarts...and it's not Hermione. An account of the unfortunate results of mixing magic with rabbits, starting with the deaths of the carrot tops...
1. Carrot Cake

_Dear Reader: This story is very much a parody. If you want to know when it takes place in the HP timeline, I'm afraid it doesn't…at all. It's just ridiculous, so please be content with such. It's rated Mature for indecent cursing, rabbits tearing the Weaselys apart and Harry's vanity. I don't own Harry Potter. I have to sneak him into my house, actually. _

Chapter 1: Carrot cake

Hermione Granger kept her sins hidden in a box beneath her bed, alongside a horrendously hued assortment of Weasley sweaters and a creature that had been formed from the mold in Ron's brain. Its name was Rwan.

Compared to its flamboyant neighbors, the box itself was unremarkable. Square and worn, it was smaller than what some others of its kind might've been like, though this was prominently due to an inverted engorgement charm rather than any piety on her behalf.

No, if one were able to defeat the swift attacks of Rwan and break the Voldemort inspired dark magic surrounding the box and not turn into a giant sperm as a result of the spells, they would've found a temple of sins with long corridors and fluorescent lighting on the inside.

The Head Girl truly had a kadazzle of secrets apart from time turners and foreign lovers.

The demonic and convenient penseive had reinforced a dark obsession in the young girl's life. Each night, she would dutifully sneak up to her bedroom and spend an hour going through her color-coded sins, marveling at her evil potential.

At one point, she had considered claiming the newly unoccupied position of Dark Lord, taking up the title of Mahdor-yralih. (That had been during her phase as a Hindu-feminist. Her hairiness had rivaled Hagrid's.)

Yet, she had pushed this idea under the bed as well when she saw what they did to Voldemort upon his capture. Becoming Fudge's concubine just wasn't her life aspiration. No one had suspected the Minister's sick fixation; a baby was apparently on the way; they were going to call it Pineapple.

Having enough common sense to not take candy from Voldemort during his 854th attempt to disembowel Harry, Hermione also wisely decided to hide her inner longing and wait. She still enjoyed reviewing what she could've done, though, if she was a lobotomized worm who drank too much before she rode off on her broom…like the rest of the Gryffindors…



On that uncommonly quiet Friday, Hermione was interrupted midway through her practice when she flipped over a memory of wanting to hang Ron up as a piñata on the Whomping Willow after their quickly dispatched romance. Watching chocolate frogs leap free from the boy's exposed stomach, she realized that she hadn't seen the carrot top in quite some time.

The young lady shifted noisily on the bed, this unwanted thought pressing into her peace like a cheerleader at a fat kid camp. Of course, she reassured the tumorous guilt damming her senses, her seventh year had been rather busy. Gambling with Filch, saving the world and illicit romances with house elves were toilsome enterprises, but usually Ron would toss himself into the cycle. He would say something demeaning about her intelligence and fling boogers at her; she would lock up more sinful thoughts in the box.

A slight blush formed on the apples of her cheeks and rolled down her neck as she realized her intellectual misstep. Ron's disappearance and the lull that followed had just been, well, very nice. It was almost like having a book covered in icing for dinner. She quickly labeled this under fuchsia for 'fantasies'.

Twirling a rotini like strand of hair, she analyzed the facts. How long had it been since she'd seen him, then? One week? Two? Surely not three….The hand slid from her unmanageable hair and ran down to grip its twin for comfort. If Ron had been gone for three weeks, why hadn't anyone said anything?

The girl considered certain attributes of the school: the damp hallways, the obnoxiously violent gay boys... After surviving these AND Voldemort for so many years, could he possibly be dead? It was absurd! And yet, he was Ron…

Snapping up from the crimson covers like a resurrected zombie, Hermione's oval eyes rolled around her expansive brain.

If he was dead, she would be the one to blame solely because of her genius. Although an entirely unfair assertion, it would not stop Molly Weasley from breaking Hermione's legs with a rolling pin, cookie cutting her young flesh with a rusty can and serving her to the rest of the Weasley brood.

She rubbed her ink scented skin apologetically, imagining what she would look like as a Christmas cookie. A gingerbread boy perhaps…

Not bothering to put on a robe or slippers, Hermione vaulted down the stairs to search for the only other boy who could know of Ron's whereabouts and perhaps save her life.



Harry Potter was staring fixedly into the common room mirror as if it was a pinup poster of Fleur Delacour. Other curious Gryfindors, despite having formed a human pyramid, were unable to see their savior's actions due to a lake of drool expanding around him. But, the boy didn't seem to mind this environmental change, nor the typical reflection in the mirror.

Floating atop the water, he sat with a steady thread of drool dripping from his open mouth, lightly stroking the lightening bolt scar on his forehead. It was his coolest physical trait, worthy of worshippers and martyrs. As a poor underfed boy, the knowledge that he bore such a mark had been the only feature which kept him from throwing his face on a hot skillet along with the bacon.

The world just could not exist without such an amazing scar. It was just so…brilliant. He humbly allowed himself to be led by the scar's internal voice, which had taught him how to dethrone the Dark Lord (ice cream and love potion #9 were kept on separate shelves at the grocery store from then on).

Now, he had been given new instructions: to become a vigilante of the night, forsaking the magical world for his alter killer cool identity. He hadn't yet thought of a name for this character, but was brainstorming several options. Hot Boy and Sex-Ayyy had high marks on the list.

"You truly are beautiful," he whispered still petting the lightening bolt. "So amazing, like Voldemort in a miniskirt."

If his dear bushy haired admirer hadn't been standing in a foot of his drool looking like she'd been struck by a dingle bat, Harry would've mentioned some other private comments. Through half closed eyes, he disappointedly puffed, "What is it, Hairhiney."

"HERMIONE, HARRY!" the girl gushed and lunged for his neck, creating a tidal wave that wiped out any Gryffindors watching on the shore.

"Yes, of course, what do you want? I'm meditating…" Harry continued, riding out a low wave unperturbed.

Soaked and huffing from the exertion of plowing through Potter drool, Hermione decided she would lift weights after this ridiculous incident then drag the boy to Antarctica in his sleep. Visualizing Harry Potter surrounded by singing whales and dancing penguins calmed Hermione's vengeful side for another day.

"I was wondering if you'd seen Ron lately..." she peacefully inquired, smoothing down her house elf t-shirt (she had made several planning to sell them as a fundraiser for SPEW; however no one else wanted to wear Dobby and Winky's smiling farty faces kissing besides her).

The boy tilted his head to examine the scar from another angle.

"Harry?"

"Mmmm"

"Y'know, Ron, the tall redhead?"

"MmmMMmm"

"The one who's always following you?"

"UmmmMarvelous"

"No not really."

Hermione tapped her lips, foraging her genius for some other way to describe Ronald Weasley when a loud bang shot down their conversation.

A flabbergasted Ginny leaned heavily against the demolished entrance door, her tattered robes flittering to the ground with each struggled gasp. Behind her, an equally exhausted Neville stooped like a worn out turtle, though with considerably more clothes on.

(The Head Girl vaguely wondered if Ginny had ripped her own clothes upon seeing much more of the youngest Weasley's breast than what even a newborn baby was accustomed to.)

With an amazing burst of energy and several vicious otter like leaps, the younger girl splashed through the filthy water to Harry's side. Neville respectfully edged around the perimeter towards the party, having never wanted to be covered in any man's liquid.

Harry, though still staring at his reflection, managed to say, "Hello, Vaginny."

Hermione had to rush to the lone female Weasely's side in order to catch her swooning form. "Ginny!!? Oh, WAKE UP, you silly girl!!" she screamed, dunking the redhead under the water. A born again Ginny spluttered to the surface; still keeping her sinful eyes focused on Harry, the young girl's hand crept slowly to the few remaining buttons on her robes.

Prying the tainted limb away, Hermione asked in a clear voice, "What-the-hell-happened-to-you?"

"I found her," Neville interjected with a reluctant toe in the water. "She was running up from the dungeons all pale like and stuff. I thought for a minute she was Peeves out cross dressing again."

"Why'd you follow her, then?"

"Because…she needed me…just like…the world…needs me." The boy gazed valiantly off into the distance, a noble eyebrow raised while an unseen wind blew the ragged hair off his forehead. A crudely drawn red lightening bolt could be seen hidden beneath the sweaty strands.

Ginny stopped breathing into the boy's cheeky face and turned back towards Harry. "I-it's R-Roon," she finally said. "I f-f-f-found h-him…dead."

The present company stopped, each looking at the Head Girl like a herd of pill popping chickens. "Oh, damnit all," she muttered, and, tossing Ginny in the water, Hermione waded to the door.



The sound of the rescue team's feet slapping along the stone floor would've caused an avalanche in the dungeons if Slytherins were not so opposed to snow in their decorum.

Hermione thought ruefully that she would've preferred anything soft under her bare feet at the moment even if it was Ron's body. There was, sadly, no time to ease her discomfort without attaining said corpse.

Several rather large icicles growing above their heads did occasionally fall and slow down the hurried pace of the Gryffindors. Hermione assumed that these had been charmed by the denizens of the dungeons; the cannibals probably had their mothers prepare the victims' bodies for dinner.

'_Damn Slytherins_',Hermione thought as they passed several frozen house elves, obliging grins and iced over tears still glued to their faces.

"What the hell was Ron doing down here, anyway" she mumbled aloud, the words echoing unceremoniously down the corridor. There were too many empty blanks concerning this expedition that she couldn't make up an answer to, an unacceptable circumstance for her. She had hoped that Ginny would provide some information about what she'd seen; instead the redhead had led them in silence, running on top of Harry so she could sniff his hair.

Contacting Professor McGonagall before heading into this iced over hell might've been prudent, but Hermione preferred to figure out if Ron was actually dead this time, personally and quickly. She had given other mistaken reports about the boys' deaths, but all had ended with the dentists' daughter awkwardly squinched up in a corner wishing Harry Potter and his sidekick weren't so damn immortal. Remembering the humiliation drove the redeemed girl to run faster and forget her aching feet.

The rescue team didn't slow down to discuss her question, either. It had been previously agreed that they would get the body and get out before dinner if possible. Roast beef and apple tartan were on the menu, after all.

The 'Boy who Lived' managed to swirl his head around, nearly knocking Ginny into a stone wall. "I bet he was shagging that Lavalamp girl. Kept telling me bout her. Not much in my opinion," he fluffed his perfectly disheveled hair, "she had a hairy chest."

"Would you all kindly close your caverns for Pnefocals and stop disturbing the Bladybloos under the ground, please? You're going to make _him_ run away," an ethereal voice whispered loudly from farther ahead.

Harry skidded to a halt, stunned that someone would actually try to shush him; he whipped towards the willowy frame of Luna Lovegood with the fervor of a Baptist minister who had just seen a demon. "What the hell's that supposed to mean, Loogie?" he shouted before Ginny accidentally rammed into him and dragged his flailing body to the floor.

Swishing like a private dancer out of a shadowy hallway, a lightly dressed Luna stepped on Harry and Ginny's intertwined limbs and moved over to Hermione and Neville.

"Would either of you happen to have a Vergaty net? I think I could capture _him_ if I had one of those. They of course are indestructible to spearmint and greasy teachers and…"

Hermione shot up her hand on a reflex, panting, "There is absolutely NO such thing as a _Vergaty_ net AND I DON'T see why you would need it ANYWAY!"

Luna twisted a green beet on her necklace with a sigh and retreated back to her initial spot, one boneless hand motioning them to follow her while the other picked her lip. The group squirmed there way forward, looking down Luna's slender finger pointed towards an open closet. "Don't you see _him_!" she said.

At first, Hermione didn't see anything in the dark space except the dancing color spots and grazing clowns. But gradually she began to hear a clacking noise amplified in the emptiness. A shudder vibrated along her body; the noise was like listening to Flitwick tap dance in the Great Hall.

The Head Girl took a hesitant step to the sound, disregarding Neville's talk of a gruesome death or Ginny suckling on Harry's ear. No distraction (that didn't involve jelly filled treats) could stop her now; learning more about the subject had always been her first priority. She stretched her pupils to take in whatever light was possible without disturbing the specimen, and focused her entire face like a laser beam.

There! Was that lumpy ottoman shape an outline of a body? And did it move just then when she cracked her knee? No, no… The limbs, if they were limbs, weren't proportioned correctly; the arms were far too long or were they holding onto something else (a broken broomstick perhaps)?

But there again! She was sure it moved and slavered over the stick. And those two fat, spiky antennae on its head suddenly stood up as if the thing was searching for a different channel…No wait…Could they be…ears?

Neville shook Hermione's bent shoulders with a sweaty hand, whispering, "Let's go back, Hermione! It's probably just Snape eating a first year!!"

Aroused by Neville's seductive voice, the creature twitched and twisted around to face the intruders, a pair of glowing red eyes staring blankly back at them.

The Gryffindors bravely scurried back like a lion from an argumentative wife, but Luna clutched her hands together in awe. "Oh, isn't it wonderful! A perfect specimen!! I wish daddy was here! He always loved Floppsys!"

Hermione didn't see a Floppsy…just a huge mutant rabbit with sharp fangs gnawing on what she now identified to be a femur. Other stripped bones were scattered beneath the monster as were two shredded Gryffindor robes.

After a somewhat silent moment, a quickly disinterested Harry tapped his foot, imitating the beastly noise, and spewed, "Well is it fucking time for dinner yet?"


	2. The Russian Solution

_Dear Reader: This chapter is particularly mature with some intense Malfoy cursing, Snape violence and, of course, killer bunny action. If I owned Harry Potter, this is what the novels would have been like…which means I would've been arrested…most likely….My jail name would probably be Hairy Legged Avenger…_

_Other notes…I was originally gonna call this whole thing _Damn You, Hagrid_ for reasons that I'll get to later on…but titles are supposed to be PG which fucking sucks…cuz' I love my other title so much better…anyway I hope this second chapter makes the first one clearer…if that's possible…_

Chapter 2: The Russian Solution

Neville's vomit consisted of marshmallows and purple globs. If put under a microscope, one would've discovered that these were actually small universes living in the boy's stomach, but unfortunately the only person who would've been interested was otherwise distracted.

Hermione edged closer to the site of the crime, wide eyes observing how the "Floppsy" gave them an appraising look before returning its attention to the chunks of meat still on the bone.

"Oh my God…how could…I mean…a rabbit? It's ridiculous Monty

Python crap. Unbelievable. There must be some mistake, here."

"Hermione, they're not rabbits. I've already told you! They're Floppsys and they're adorable, aren't you, Floppsy-moppsy?!" Luna replied, her gray eyes glistening like two fried eggs as she extended a hungry hand to the creature.

With a loud "kuppychup," Hermione knocked the crazed girl's body through the floor, assuring her conscience that Luna's broken bones could be healed in seconds with magic. It didn't stop Luna from whimpering, though.

"You can't pet it, Luna!! Don't you see the bones!! And the robes!! I mean, it's even got a goddamn prefect badge stuck in its teeth!!!"

Recognizing the acidity in Hermione's voice, the Floppsy stopped scraping the meat from its fangs with the metal star and self consciously turned its back on the crowd to finish primping itself.

Hermione snorted smoke signals out of her nose. "SEE! That THING ATE RON!!"

"And Lavender," coughed up Neville.

"Yeah, her too!!"

Harry swam through the scattered bodies of his friends,

waving his arms in the air to both reassure the group and detach the hook Ginny was trying to pierce him with.

"Oh, come off it, Hermie! That thing might not have eaten Runnie or hairy man-girl!!" He rolled his shoulders and performed a Michael Jackson crotch grab. "Maybe somebody's been murdering people and sacrificing them to me down here!!"

Ginny pumped a fist into the air and shouted a hearty "Amen" at his words; the sensitive suggestion had Neville's vomit flowing like a waterfall onto the living Weasley's feet.

Using Neville's lumpy head as a balance, Luna carefully rose up from the ground. "They might not actually be Ron and Lavender. Maybe they're Malfoy's bones and the professors just forgot to feed him or wanted to build huts for themselves out of his bones or were drinking his blood to become glowing dandeli-"

A sudden fit rippled through the deranged bunny, stopping the group's guessing game. After several strained wheezes, a maroon ball shot out of its mouth with the speed of a cannonball and crashed landed at Hermione's feet. She carefully uncoiled the spittle covered blob with her wand. A large letter 'R' was stitched haphazardly on the front.

"Wow," Ginny breathed. "I guess those sweaters really are indestructible"



Pulling out his wand in a karate kid move, Harry instantly cried, "I get to kill it."

"Now wait, Harry, we should study this thing before we try to-". Unfortunately, Hermione's attempts to placate the sociopath were thwarted by the pinwheel like motion of his wand.

"Avada Kedav-"

"NOOOOOOBBLUUUURRPPP" Neville screamed and threw up all over Harry. He draped his exhausted frame on the young hero, and explained, "You can't, uggah, use an unforgivable, bblllucccckk. They destroyed, gogglyglup, my parents."

Harry disgustedly brushed off the remnants of Neville's stomach, spattering, "Honestly, Longarse, your parents are off in the states making millions in the black market selling organs. My parents ARE dead smelly worm filled corpses and so is my damned godfather! I win! Just stand aside so I can kill it and we can go back and get billions of house points."

"What! You can get organs, Neville? Oh, my mother used to love playing the organ before bedtime to scare off old men," Luna cried, her face lit up from the unearthly glow inside of her. Neville didn't even register her enthusiasm, though; he slid to the floor like a violated Pinocchio.

"Neville's parents are crazed invalids, Luna." Hermione answered, still considering how to catch the bunny before Harry could scoop out its innards and restuff it with Jell-o.

Vacantly, she offered up a "Sorry Neville" when she saw the pumpkin faced boy blubbering into his puke. He kept muttering to the purple blobs "You guys are my family."

"Now, can I kill it?" Harry begged, shuffling closer to the door and slowly raising his wand.

"NO! We have to find out what this is and how it got into the castle!" the know-it-all stated firmly. "Maybe someone inside of Hogwarts is trying to sabotage you _again_. I mean for God's sakes it happens every damn year and I always hafta save your asses and kill something or anot-"

The clacking sounds of the creature were slowly replaced by Hermione's incessant ramblings. Tearing off a final piece of meat, it scrunched up its nose and hopped towards the group.

"-just pathetic. And Voldemort's not even dead! I bet he escaped from under Fudge and set these little bastards loose-"

Another hop and the Floppsy was close enough to snatch Harry's wand and use it to scratch a sore spot on its back.

"-And how many more of these things could be hidden in the school! There are plenty of spots in this God awfu-"

The bunny leaped onto Harry and tore off one of the stunned boy's arms. He tasted better than the giant squid.

"-slimy, boggart filled castle. God, that spamified Dumbl-"

"OHH SHITTT!!!!!" Ginny screamed when Harry's blood splattered on her face. Pulling the chewed up limb from its mouth, she smacked the creature back into the closet and shut the door.

"-I understand Sirius was extraordinarily sexy but OH MY GOD! HARRY YOU IDIOT!!!"

Thick blood was already shooting out of Harry's body as if he was a fire hose. Ginny was casting a variety of charms, hoping one would stop the bleeding or get Harry to love her.

Luna knelt down to eye level with the amputee and thoughtfully placed her hand under her chin. "Oooo, Floppsy really got you, didn't he? Suppose you shouldn't have been such an effeminate toad. Floppsys are quite attracted to those."

A semi-conscious Harry snatched his severed arm and threw it at Luna. She ducked the object easier than a bad relationship.

"Stop it all of you! I think I can fix this…a bit" Hermione said through grounded teeth and pulled out her wand. Before she could help the injured boy, however, an ominous sound flooded through the halls; it crashed against their eardrums like a horde of trick or treaters at the Wonka factory.

An elephantine Neville tripped over Harry's arm and fell in the muck. Shakily, he picked up the sacrificial limb, and pointed it at the oncoming shadows. "W-what's _that_, Hermione?"

Luna smiled.



Severus Snape didn't have any pictures in his private quarters; neither did he have any bodies chopped up beneath the floor boards or chairs for visitors. The only actual furniture in the room was a very large liquor cabinet and a single ratty armchair which he occupied on the weekends.

It was paradise.

Staring at the moldy stone wall and blocked up fireplace, Snape reveled in the emptiness by taking a large swig of his drink. With a content sigh, he lifted the empty glass in a half salute to the solitude, and then poured himself another one.

So what if Dumbledore was screwing any living entity, Voldemort was pregnant with the Minister's bastard baby and Snape was alone (as usual)?

Everything was fine.

Agitatedly, he plucked at the already torn cloth of the chair, making little popping noises with his thin lips. Bad habits seemed to congregate around his character. He rolled his neck around its base, twirling the gray surroundings in his vision, until he finally stopped on the same empty wall. He shot off an extra loud pop then deflated back into the chair.

It wasn't that he was lonely or jealous of his former slave drivers. Loneliness was a stupid feeling for stupid people who would still be complaining even if they were in bed with twenty thousand Amazonian women who smelled like salted peanuts.

No, Snape was just bored.

His foot began tapping the floor on its own accord, adding to the symphony of other bodily noises he was producing. Unconsciously, he started to bob his head.

He needed to do something. At least the Deatheaters killed people. What did the good guys do? Had sex and thought of Potter while having sex. It was quite redundant and particularly irritating for the professor who found no arousing quality in the boy (unless it involved the prodigy's death).

The isolated man's eyes widened slightly at a possible activity. He could work on that potion which would kill off idiotic children before they infected the general population. It was still a fairly new idea, but there were numerous procedures to go through. Advertisement possibilities and getting Dumbledore's approval for the project were amongst these.

A heavy sigh broke through his lips, filling the room with the noxious gas. He already knew what that fruit loop of a man would say to his intelligent request. Whether it was during or after the war, Snape's dreams were always impossible to fulfill.

A sudden hammering on the door disrupted his misery and the musicale of his actions. Shaking the lanky hair out of his eyes, he wondered what drugged up sod would attempt such a deed and swished up out of his chair.

Despite his boredom, Snape took slow strides through his quarters to ease the tension of the incessant interloper. (Whenever the chance to annoy someone comes up, one must take advantage of it.) Wrenching the handle open, a pale faced, pointy chinned, slick haired son of a bitch met his disappointed anticipation.

"Malfoy! What's the meaning of this! No one is allowed to disturb me at this hour without severe consequence. Now, which leg would you like sawed off," Snape sneered.

Instead of answering, the panting boy held up two rather large and chunky legs, blood still dripping from their ripped ends. "How 'bout these?," he managed to say after sucking all of the oxygen out of the air.

Eyebrows lost in the base of his skull, Snape threw Malfoy into the room and slammed the door with a shout. "YOU KNOW you are not allowed to kill anyone on school premises AND to carry the evidence around with you?! It's extraordinarily amateurish. You should've tried to hide the body at least."

Malfoy shook his head vehemently, clapping the legs together to emphasize his point. More blood gushed onto the floor. "NO, sir! I didn't kill these ones. This is all that's left of Crabbe and Goyle!"

Snape did a pirouette on his toes and tugged the boy three feet off the ground by his collar. "WHUUAAAATT!?"

"Yeah! There were these fucking buggers tearing them to bits in the common room. It was incredible, professor! You should've heard the screams! Shit, if I could do that-"

"YOU STUPID TWAT!! YOU WATCHED THEM EAT YOUR BUMBLING BODYGUARDS!! DID YOU NOT THINK TO ATTACK THEM!?!!"

Wrestling within Snape's tightening grip, Draco whined, "Well, sir, it's not like I'm gonna fight off killer bunnies for those two wankers."

"KILLER BUNNIES, MALFOY!! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

"I know! I was hoping we could catch some and start our own army of mutant bunnies! I'd be the sex god Dracoolo and you could be Lord Snapey and-"

Snape's face glowed as bright as an atomic bomb over a tropical paradise. There was absolutely no such thing as killer bunnies, and no way in hell that he would start an evil empire with Draco Malfoy at his side. Ever. Especially if his name was going to be "Lord Snapey".

The buttery look on Malfoy's face suddenly melted at the sound of distant screams and pounding feet. "Fucking flobberworms! They found me!"

Snape didn't bother asking who. He tossed the boy aside, and power walked out into the hall, the ground trembling beneath his powerful strides…or so he thought.

"Wait, professor!" Malfoy cried running after the insufferable man, but was shocked into silence by the oncoming sight. A horde of bunnies were furiously chasing a group of the most hated people on the planet. And Harry Potter was missing an arm. And skipping.

Draco hissed a snakey "Yessssss" and stood on his tippy toes to watch the final stand of Dumbledore's damn Army. Death would surely be worth the show.



Ever since Harry had been informed of his secret wizarding background, he had wanted a cuddly cool bunny. It seemed to his eleven year old mind like the logical choice for a magician's pet; but when the list of acceptable animals reached his little hands, he almost ripped up his acceptance letter.

There would be no bunnies at Hogwarts.

The astonished boy had tried to repress this anger, deciding everything in his life was just naturally screwed up. Hedwig, he resigned, would have to do. However, the floppy ears didn't stay glued onto the bird's head, forcing Harry to realize the inadequacy of the replacement.

Faced with this ultimatum of insatiable longing or insanity, an unwanted effect developed in his heart. A keen hatred for the beasts decimated his love, leaving his insides rather messy and smelly. His lacking emotional core had thus concluded that all bunnies were evil because they were not his and must be exterminated.

(Aunt Petunia had hired an exorcist to cleanse the house from the demonic entity that had slashed off her bunny slippers' heads and nailed them inside the icebox.)

Harry had never thought that the fluffy darlings understood his murderous intentions. Until some fucking rabbit nipped his arm off.

A warm liquid that tasted like melted plastic was being rubbed down his throat by a ticklish set of fingers.

"Luna! What are you giving him?!" someone cried in his foggy awareness.

"Don't worry, Hermione, I take this all the time. It does wonders on my abilities to communicate with smerfs."

"WAIT! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?! LSD!! OH MY GOD! WE NEED HARRY TO STOP BLEEDING NOT BE DRUGGED UP ON SUNSHINE!!"

"No, no, no, Hermione. See! It's Luna's Special Drug! I make it myself with some of the herbs I get from Russia!"

"RUSSIA IS FULL OF TRANSVESTITES AND COMMUNISTS!!"

"EeeeeXactly!"

Harry was jostled into the conversation when his head bounced off the collarbone of his human crutch. "Voldy?" he whimpered and inched his eyes open.

There were a lot more colors in the world than what he remembered, and a lot more grizzly bears on roller blades. "Wo-o-a-h!" he said halting the galloped pace of the ostrich he was riding to pinch a bear's snout.

"SHIT! I CAN'T STOP THEM!! NEVILLE GET HARRY!! THE BUNNIES ARE ALMOST ON HIM!!" a particularly bushy tree screamed in front of him as it shot off a rod of crows behind his head.

Infused with his old passion at the statement, Harry swiveled around and saw them: a wondrous gross of beautiful Easter egg bunnies leaping towards him. The boy almost cried.

Neville didn't share Harry's love for the furry beasts. If his uncle hadn't thrown him into a pit with a pack of hungry baby chicks to see if he had any magical abilities, then Neville might have thought they were cute. Instead, he ran as fast as a rap star from a yodeler.

What had Neville equally worried, though, were Hermione's failed attempts to hex the creatures back to Bugs Bunny's hell. He knew his own wand work only had the power to trim his eyebrows, but Hermione was employed to save their asses.

And the other girls were either crooning bunny love songs or grinding against Harry's detached arm.

Neville didn't want to die. If he had stronger stomach, the boy would've ignored Hermione's request, feigning a sudden bout of deafness or loss of memory, but his burning esophagus wouldn't allow it. He had to save Harry or he would have to watch Harry get eaten and throw up and then get eaten himself.

A most alarming predicament.

Rolling his lip resolutely under his chin, he shot off a "Stupefy" to still the prancing stag, and ended up ineffectively hitting a blood sucking rabbit. It scratched its puffy cheek.

"Bugger!Bugger!Bugger!Fudge!" he eloquently huffed each time he missed taking down the elusive Harry Potter. A lot of itchy rabbits, which had accumulated from his woeful tries, stared at him as if he was the devil in tights.

A part of Neville wished he was when the evil bunnies picked up their speed. At least the devil would've gotten a pitchfork and his choice of women.

"Fudger yer mother!" he prayed to any invisible force as the horde pounced towards him; in answer, a stone wall started to grow out of the floor and expand to block the entire hallway. Throwing his hands up, Neville victoriously proclaimed, "YES, I AM HARRY POTTER!"

"NEVILLE!! MOVE YOUR LONG ASS!! IT WON'T HOLD MUCH LONGER!!" Hermione cried, wand still spinning protection charms into her transfigured wall.

When a large window was cut out by the steroid energizer bunnies, Neville sprang to his feet and vroomed ahead. Harry giggled derisively and cartwheeled after him.

"DAMMNIT LUNA!! HOW MUCH OF THAT STUFF DID YOU GIVE HARRY!?!!" Hermione hollered and simultaneously shot off another hex at the gaining Floppsys. When this failed to do anything for the fiftieth time, she nearly threw her wand into one of the closer Floppsy's red eyes with a frustrated cry.

The blonde cheerfully called back, "Well, I usually drink the whole bottle, but I only gave him a sip! Besides, he's not bleeding anymore!!"

The high boy crashed into her with a laugh. "Look! I'm fuh-lying on a WHHhhhhAAAAaLe!" he squealed, and continued to tap dance around Neville's troll like running stance.

"THERE ARENO MORE FLYING WHALES, HARRY!! I KILLED THEM ALL AND MADE PERFUME OUT OF THEIR BLUBBER!!" Hermione roared at the young savior.

An approving burst of laughter met her comment, followed by a resounding thud. Hermione flipped her head to the side in time to see Snape knock out Malfoy with a fluid punch, muttering, "Shut up, you glossy gargoyle!"

At this horrible glimpse of her only hope, Hermione stammered "O-OVER THERE!!PROFESSOR!!" and shifted her direction.

The distracted Snape jerked his head at the implicative statement, his mouth twisting into a lemon sucker grimace. He rushed back into an opened passageway along the wall, kicking Malfoy inside while trying to close the gothic styled door.

This time five people hit him with an Expelliarmus spell. (Harry added several more after the fact in a sing song voice to a jingle only he and Luna heard. She waved her hands in the air.)

With the strength of love and a third arm, Ginny pulled the door open, allowing the remaining survivors to shimmy through. (Hermione had to drag Luna and Harry inside.) Just as the first bunny reached the entry, the whole group rammed the door shut and shouted every single protective spell they knew, inventing new ones where needed.

A frightening series of DAMBUMPs and PADUHs wailed against the walls. Watching the stones shudder, Neville considered whether this was all a stunt to test the stability of the school's architecture. They had recently brought his grandmother to St. Mungo's for her centennial check up and found out she was actually a clone. Perhaps, this was the Minister's twisted version of such for Hogwarts.

The failed rescue team backed up to the middle of the room (Harry purposefully stepping on Malfoy's hand with a snicker) and listened to the diminishing noises. A final BABOOM, which dangerously rattled the door, signaled the end to the bunnies' attack for the moment; their scampered movements thundered away.

Hermione exhaled enough carbon dioxide to turn paper into trees again before assessing their present situation. They were in a small relatively empty space, a parlor of some kind, though why Snape would have such a place puzzled her. She doubted Snape played strip poker with the other professors.

There was another door across from the one they had barged through. Its intricate snake knob the only ornate feature of the room unless one counted the black masses of Professor Snape and Malfoy groggily coming to on the floor.

Their presence abruptly shut down Hermione's methodical analysis as she realized the sickening truth: she was trapped in Snape's room with the greasy git, his ferret sidekick, and her gang of disturbed adolescents. And rampaging bunnies were presumably eating the rest of Hogwarts' denizens.

Hermione sank to the floor, gaping at the door. She wondered if she could steal some poison from Snape's stores.

_Final thoughts: So I think there's about two of you (besides my sister) who are actually reading this… but if you have any constructive suggestions or ideas of hurting Harry in any way… I would love to go out and have a tea party with you…but since that's impossible…you could just review…and I'll be thinking of our tea party…not that I'm a psycho…yet…_


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